Jaya_ An Illustrated Retelling of the Mahabharata by devdutt Pattanaik

watched them bathe in the Ganga and bid them farewell from the other side of the river. Beyond lay the forests that would be their home for a long, long time. Why does Dhritarashtra finally intervene? Is it because good sense finally prevailed? Is it because he suddenly notices bad omens all around and realizes he must protect his sons from the consequences of their megalomania? Is it because, as many folk versions suggest, the palace women including Gandhari and the wives of the Kauravas rise up in protest? Vyasa leaves the reader guessing. In South India, Draupadi is worshipped as the fierce virgin-goddess who is let down by her five husbands. In festivals that last up to eighteen days, the whole Mahabharata is re-enacted at the end of which young men walk on fire. This ritual is believed to represent an act of collective expiation by the men for letting down the goddess. In Bangalore, during the Karaga festival, a man dresses up like a woman and travels through the city surrounded by brave men carrying swords, known as Veerakumaras. The man is supposed to represent Yudhishtira, the eldest Pandava, undergoing ritual humiliation as he asks his wife, the goddess, to forgive him and bestow her grace upon his people. A solar eclipse is supposed to have occurred when the Pandavas went into exile. This is described by Vidura in the Sabha Parva. In the Bhil Bharata, a version of the Mahabharata from the Dungri Bhil community in the northern parts of the Gujarat state, who claim descent from Rajputs, there is a tale of the Pandavas being asked to find ‘a man who is sold by a woman’ before they can proceed with a particularly powerful yagna. Bhima offers to find such a man. He wanders the earth but finds no such man as all the women he meets say that the men who belong to them are their husbands. They inform Bhima that a husband is like a jewel that makes a woman beautiful and therefore cannot be given away like cattle. Finally, Bhima is directed to a courtesan who has many customers. They all chase her but she does not care for them. She willingly sells a man to Bhima so that the Pandavas can perform their yagna. This tale compiled by Dr Bhagwandas Patel seems like an expression of folk outrage on the gambling of Draupadi by the men who were supposed to protect her. They treated her as chattel, not as wife.

Book Eleven Exile ‘Janamejaya, in the forest, your once prosperous ancestors lived in poverty and were repeatedly humiliated and humbled.’

50 Krishna visits the Pandavas While the gambling match was taking place in Hastina-puri, and while the Pandavas were losing all their fortune, Krishna was away at Dwaraka defending his city from attacks by Shishupala’s friends, Shalva and Dantavakra. After pushing them back, he rushed to Hastina-puri. By the time he arrived, however, the match was over and the Pandavas had lost everything. Krishna found his cousins and their queen outside the city, near a cluster of caves in the forest of Kamyaka, looking despondent, surrounded by sages who were trying to comfort them and make sense of all that had happened. Royalty just a few days earlier, surrounded by grain and gold, cows and horses, they had nothing now. Draupadi was the first to see Krishna approach. Tears, held back until now, burst forth in a gush as she ran to hug him, unmindful of the men around. The Pandavas followed her and hugged Krishna too. Somehow, seeing Krishna, it seemed all wrongs would be made right. ‘We still have our weapons. Let us march to Hastina-puri right now and destroy the Kauravas,’ said a determined Bhima. ‘Did you not agree to spend thirteen years in exile if you lost the match?’ asked Krishna.

‘Yes,’ said Yudhishtira. ‘Then, keep your word.’ ‘They tricked us,’ shouted Arjuna. ‘Shakuni used loaded dice. Exile or no exile, Duryodhana will never let go of Indra-prastha.’ ‘That should be a concern only thirteen years later,’ said a calm Krishna, sensing the bubbling rage in the brothers. ‘Yudhishtira played the game of dice,’ reasoned Bhima. ‘Not us. Let the rest of us fight and reclaim what is ours.’ Krishna looked at Bhima sternly. ‘Don’t blame him for this situation. You allowed him to play on your behalf. You are as much responsible for this situation as he is. No one forced any of you to accept the invitation to the game of dice and nobody forced you to wager your wife. Your pride prevented you from withdrawing. You continued, abandoning all good sense. All five of you lost. All five of you must keep your word and suffer exile quietly. To keep your word is dharma.’ Hearing Krishna speak so, Draupadi started sobbing uncontrollably. Her unbound hair reached her feet like an unfurled banner seeking vengeance. ‘Surely I am not responsible for what happened to me,’ she said.

Krishna looked at Draupadi, his eyes full of empathy. ‘God does not hate you, Draupadi. But you are responsible for rejecting Karna on the grounds of caste. A great warrior, he would never have gambled you in a game of dice. You chose a priest instead, who turned out to be a prince, who shared you with his four brothers, but who could not protect you. And so here you are—helpless, humiliated, and alone, in a situation that you inadvertently helped create. Take responsibility for it.’ Draupadi was shattered on hearing Krishna’s grating truth. Krishna hugged her and wept with her and wept for her. He then consoled her. ‘Those who tormented you, Draupadi, had the option of not doing so. Those around could have helped you. But they chose to abuse you. The elders could have protested, but they hid behind rule books. Each one of them, the criminals as well as the silent witnesses of the crime, will pay a price, Draupadi. As you weep now, so shall their widows. Be assured of that.’ Sensing Draupadi’s concern for her children, Krishna said, ‘Do not fear for them. I will give them, Subhadra and Subhadra’s son shelter in Dwaraka. There they will be raised as my own sons by my wives.’ In both the great Indian epics, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, the forest is both a physical reality as well as a metaphor for the unknown, untamed realms of the mind. The Rishis are the first to explore both these spaces, creating trails connecting caves and water bodies that offer refuge to travellers. Warriors accompany them or follow them, protecting them from beasts and demons. Thus the Vedic way reaches the unexplored realms of the world; the forests become tame, a safe place for mankind, where even the weakest can thrive. Politically, this can be seen as the tales of the so-called Aryan invasion, how the followers of the Veda established their supremacy in India. Metaphysically, it can be seen as the tales of gradual domestication of the mind. As in the Ramayana, the forest exile in the Mahabharata begins as a tragedy and ends as a great learning experience that transforms the Pandavas into better human beings and hence better kings. The Pandavas were born in the forest. After the burning of the lac palace, they took refuge in the forest. When they lost the game of dice, they again go into forest exile. By contrast, the Kauravas spend their entire life in the palace. This shows that the Kauravas have luck on their side while the Pandavas have none. The Pandavas have to rely on their intelligence, strength and unity to make their fortune.

51 Draupadi’s vessel Dhaumya, the chief priest of the Pandavas, followed them to the forest. Accompanying him were hundreds of Brahmans from Hastina-puri who were disgusted by the behaviour of the Kauravas. ‘You may not have a kingdom,’ they told Yudhishtira, ‘but you are our king. Let us perform yagnas for you as we always did. Let us invoke the Devas and wipe away your misfortune.’ Watching the Brahmans sit around her husbands, Draupadi was overwhelmed with despair. ‘When they came to my house in Indra-prastha, they never left unfed. Now, I have nothing to offer them. Oh, what shame!’ she wailed. Krishna noticed that among the priests who surrounded the Pandavas there were many who had come there on Duryodhana’s express instructions. The sole reason for their presence there, Krishna divined, was to make the Pandavas feel miserable over their inability to feed guests, and thereby win favour with the Kauravas. And the Pandavas were undoubtedly miserable. The five brothers scoured the forest for berries and fruit, but there was never enough to go around. Krishna asked Draupadi, ‘I have travelled so far to see you. Will you not feed me, Draupadi? What has happened to your famed hospitality?’ Draupadi felt Krishna was mocking her misfortune. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Krishna held her chin, raised her head, looked into her eyes and with an encouraging smile said, ‘Surely there is something.’

Draupadi wiped her tears. She realized her friend was up to something. She started thinking. ‘Half a berry,’ she said. ‘That’s what I have. I was eating it when you arrived.’ ‘That will do,’ said Krishna. Draupadi’s face lit up. She untied a knot in her garment where she had kept the berry, and offered it to Krishna. Krishna ate it with relish and even burped in satisfaction making Draupadi laugh. No sooner did Krishna burp than all the Brahmans felt as if they had eaten a vast meal. Their stomachs were so full that they could barely sit. All of them stood up and kept burping in satisfaction. ‘We have not eaten yet our stomachs are full,’ they said. They realized the blessings of the gods were with the Pandavas; even though they had no food, no one left their doorstep hungry. They blessed the Pandavas and Draupadi. Krishna then advised Yudhishtira to pray to the sun-god to save him from such embarrassing situations. In response, Surya gave him a magic vessel. ‘Give this to Draupadi. It will be always full of food until all your guests have been fed and you have been fed and Draupadi has had her meal,’ said the Deva. The arrival of the vessel was a welcome relief for Draupadi. She bowed to Surya and thanked Krishna. Having thus provided for his cousins, Krishna took leave and returned to Dwaraka.

For Kshatriyas, it was a matter of great pride that whoever visited their houses left after being refreshed and well fed. This was the law of hospitality. This is why, even today, many households in India insist that whosoever enters their house must not leave without having at least a glass of water or a cup of tea or a small snack. Draupadi’s vessel is like Lakshmi’s Akshay Patra and the Greek cornucopia which are always full of food. Across India, the term ‘Draupadi’s vessel’ means a kitchen that is overflowing with the best of foods that is offered to all guests, servants and members of the household. Such a kitchen is an indicator of a good housewife. Even though Draupadi had humiliated his son, Karna, on grounds of caste, the sun-god helps Draupadi by providing her with the magic vessel of food, yet another instance of forgiveness in the epic.

52 Kauravas gloat Duryodhana was not content with the exile of the Pandavas. ‘They have gone into the forest. But they will come back. Let us go into the forest and hunt down the Pandavas instead like wild beasts. That will secure my position forever.’ Dusshasana, Shakuni and Karna agreed with Duryodhana. But before they could act, Vyasa stormed into Hastinapuri and admonished the blind king and his blindfolded wife, ‘Stop your sons. Have they not brought enough shame to the good name of Kuru? Now they plan a dastardly hunting expedition against your nephews!’ ‘This is truly shameful,’ agreed Vidura. ‘Brother,’ he told Dhritarashtra, ‘You are the king and you let this happen to your own nephews. You can still salvage the situation. Call them back. Say it was a big mistake. Punish your sons for their wickedness. Save the household from doom.’ ‘If you are so concerned about the Pandavas, then why don’t you go to them? Why are you sitting here with me?’ snapped Dhritarashtra, tired of being criticized by his brother. ‘I will,’ said Vidura. He got up, left the palace and the city, and went straight to the Kamyaka forest, not turning back once to look at his brother.

No sooner did Vidura leave than Dhritarashtra regretted his harshness. ‘What have I done? How could I have been so rude to my brother who thinks only of my welfare?’ He immediately dispatched a servant after Vidura. ‘Do not return until he agrees to come back.’ The servant found Vidura with the Pandavas. They were seated under a huge Banyan tree on the banks of the Ganga. ‘Please come back. The king regrets his harsh words,’ said the servant. But Vidura refused to budge. Yudhishtira knew how much the two brothers loved each other. ‘Uncle, please go back,’ he told Vidura. ‘You are the one voice of reason in the palace. He needs your support in this horrible time. You may not agree with his politics but please do not abandon him at such a time. Stand by him. He needs you more than we need you.’ Vidura started to cry thinking of his weak and blind brother. Then he blessed his nephews and Draupadi and returned to the palace. Rishi Maitreya accompanied Vidura. When the Kauravas came to greet him, the sage said, ‘Beware, sons of the blind king. Beware the power of the sons of Pandu. You have driven them away from civilization but even in the forest they earn glory for themselves, glory that the Kauravas can only aspire for.’ Maitreya proceeded to tell Dhritarashtra and his hundred sons how when the Pandavas entered the Kamyaka woods, their path was blocked by a Rakshasa called Kirmira. Instead of being afraid, despite the burden of calamities on their shoulders, the Pandavas faced him unafraid. Bhima struck him with a mace and pinned him to the ground as a cowherd pins down an errant calf. He then snapped Kirmira’s neck. News of Kirmira’s death spread through the forest and the Rishis, long troubled by Kirmira, rushed to meet the Pandavas, to thank them, and to shower them with blessings.

‘No one can hide the radiance of the sun. No one can hide the glory of the Pandavas. Let them live their days in exile in peace,’ said Maitreya. On hearing this, Duryodhana decided to abort his hunting expedition. He justified his decision by saying, ‘Vidura must have told them of our plans. The element of surprise is lost. We must do this later when they are not on their guard.’ After the sage Maitreya left, Karna crept up towards Duryodhana and said, ‘Now that you are the master of all that the Pandavas once possessed, why not travel across your vast kingdom and count all the cows you have? And on the way, we can pass the woods where the Pandavas are now residing to see how they are faring. I know you have promised not to hunt them down, but surely you are allowed to feel sorry for them.’ ‘Are you suggesting we go to the forest and gloat?’ asked Duryodhana. Karna grinned. So did Dusshasana and Shakuni. Duryodhana laughed. What joy it would be to laugh at Draupadi, who once laughed at him. What joy it would be to see Bhima live as a beggar. It did not take long to convince Dhritarashtra. So a great procession was organized of horses and elephants and palanquins with wives, attendants, musicians, dancers, cooks and slaves, to go around Hastinapuri and Indra-prastha and count the cows that now belonged to the Kuru clan. This was the Ghoshayatra.

Since the unspoken intention was to make fun of the Pandavas, the great Kaurava procession stopped not far from the forest where the Pandavas had taken refuge, and made a lot of noise as the tents were set up, food was cooked and musicians got ready to entertain the revellers. Bhima, who was sent to investigate the sudden commotion in the forest, saw all this and went to Yudhishtira fuming, ‘They have camped upwind of us and are cooking in large pots so that I can smell all my favourite dishes. This is a cruel exercise to mock us in our misfortune, brother,’ he said. ‘I think they plan to go on a hunt. And we are the prey!’ said Arjuna sombrely as he watched Karna string his bow. ‘Hold your thoughts and be still,’ said Yudhishtira. ‘They can tempt us but we don’t have to be tempted. We have fallen prey to their traps before. We shall not do so again.’ Suddenly, a cry arose from the Kaurava camp. All the sounds of chattering and dancing stopped. The air was filled with the sound of hundreds of arrows descending from the sky. Nakula and Sahadeva were sent as scouts to find out what was happening. ‘The Gandharvas have attacked the Kauravas and taken them hostage,’ they said on their return. ‘The very same Gandharvas we encountered after the palace fire at Varanavata. They have bound and gagged all the Kauravas as well as Karna and Shakuni and all their servants. I think they plan to kill them all.’

‘We must rescue them,’ said Yudhishtira. Draupadi and Bhima and Arjuna turned around and looked at Yudhishtira in disbelief. ‘Why? Leave them to their fate.’ ‘Dharma is all about helping the helpless. They are helpless now. We must help them. Otherwise, we are no different from them,’ said Yudhishtira. With great reluctance, Bhima picked up his mace and Arjuna his bow and followed Yudhishtira’s instructions. They went to the Kaurava camp and challenged the Gandharvas. After a little skirmish, the Gandharvas ran away allowing the Pandavas to set the Kauravas free. The Kauravas returned to Hastinapuri shamed by the nobility of the Pandavas. Karna felt especially humiliated because he saw Arjuna defeat the very same Gandharvas who had defeated him. Duryodhana decided that he would leave the Pandavas alone in the forest. ‘We will find them in the thirteenth year of their exile and force them once again to return to the forest.’ In the forest meanwhile, the Gandharvas hugged the Pandavas with great affection and revealed that they were sent to teach the Kauravas a lesson by Indra, king of the Devas.

For rescuing his life, Duryodhana is indebted to the Pandavas. Krishna advises Duryodhana to repay this debt by giving him five golden arrows that are in Bhishma’s possession. Duryodhana steals these golden arrows and gives them to Krishna, not realizing these arrows had the power to kill the five Pandavas. This is a folklore to explain how Krishna protected the Pandavas from the mighty Bhishma. The Theyyam dancers of Kerala tell the story of black magic used by the Kauravas to destroy the Pandavas while they are in the forest. Each of their attempts is foiled either because of the grace of Krishna or the power of Draupadi. There is a Kathakali dance drama from Kerala that informs us that Kirmira had a sister called Simhika who, on learning of Kirmira’s death at the hands of Bhima, decided to kill Draupadi. Taking the form of a maiden, she befriended the wife of the Pandavas in the forest and offered to take her to a secret Durga temple. Simhika planned to offer Draupadi as a sacrifice to Durga, but Draupadi recognized her in time and called out to her husbands who cut the nose of Simhika and drove her away. Some say that Lakshmi, the goddess of fortune, sat on Duryodhana’s shoulder all the time. That is why he was always surrounded by wealth. When Lakshmi made her way into the lives of the Pandavas in the form of Draupadi, they gambled her away. The ceremonial counting of cows suggests that the society described in the Mahabharata depended on livestock for its sustenance. The cities were mainly established to protect cows and pasture lands. Perhaps the Vedic city was like the Kraal of the South African Zulu tribes where houses were built around cattle sheds. At dawn, the cows were let out and at dusk they returned, attended to by cowherds and protected by warriors. The cattle raid was the chief cause of war. In times of peace, men gambled over cows and bulls. While the Pandavas were in the forest, Karna encouraged Duryodhana to conduct an Ashwamedha yagna and get all the kings of the earth under his control so that should ever a war break out against the Pandavas, everyone would side with the Kauravas. The Hindi phrase ‘chandal chaukdi’, or menacing foursome, comes from the villainous quartet of the Mahabharata: Duryodhana, Dusshasana, Shakuni and Karna.

53 Jayadhrata A few days later, while the Pandavas were away in the forest, Draupadi found to her surprise Jayadhrata at the mouth of the cave which now served as her home. He was the king of Sindhu and married to Dusshala, the only sister of the Kauravas. Draupadi offered him a seat and served him water and some fruits, and wondered what brought him to the forest. Perhaps he came to express his sympathy and solidarity. Perhaps he wanted to clarify he did not appreciate the actions of the Kauravas, or perhaps he came here just to gloat? ‘My husbands will be back soon,’ she said. ‘I hope not,’ he said, a lusty glint in his eyes, ‘I came to see you.’ Draupadi suddenly felt uncomfortable. Jayadhrata placed before her a box. In it were fine fabrics, exquisite jewels and cosmetics. ‘For you,’ he said. ‘And there is more, if you come with me to Sindhu.’ Draupadi was shocked and disgusted by the audacity of the man. ‘I am the queen of Indra-prastha and the wife of the Pandavas. And you speak to me like this? How dare you?’ Jayadhrata laughed, ‘You have no kingdom and hence are queen of nothing. You are a beggar. Nothing but a whore of five brothers, disrobed in public by the

Kauravas. I offer you a better life, as a concubine in my palace.’ So saying, the king of Sindhu grabbed Draupadi by her hand and dragged her towards his chariot. ‘My husbands will kill you,’ screamed Draupadi. Jayadhrata just picked her up, bundled her into his chariot and sped away. The Rishis nearby who saw this ran to Bhima and Arjuna and told them what had happened. The two brothers immediately followed the trail left by the chariot. They caught up with the abductor of their wife in no time. With his arrows, Arjuna broke the chariot wheels. Bhima then pounced on Jayadhrata and hit him furiously, injuring him seriously. Jayadhrata would surely have been killed had Yudhishtira not arrived on the scene. ‘No, don’t kill him. He is the husband of the only sister we have. Let her not suffer widowhood for his misdemeanours.’ The Pandavas and Draupadi realized Yudhishtira was right. And though they were furious, and yearned for revenge, they forgave Jayadhrata and let him go. As Jayadhrata was leaving, Bhima caught hold of him and pulled out his hair, all except five tufts, to remind him that he was spared by the five Pandavas.

The dark unspoken aspects of family life were not unknown to Vyasa. Even though Draupadi is abused by Jayadhrata, she is forced to forgive him as he is the husband of her sister-in-law, Dusshala. Vyasa keeps asking what makes a woman a wife. It emerges that it is civilized society with its laws of marital fidelity that makes a woman a wife. But in the forest, there are no rules. Can a woman still be a wife? It is evident through the story of Jayadhrata that neither society nor forest can make a woman a wife; it is only the desire and the discipline of man that can do so. Draupadi’s effect on men is a recurring theme in the Mahabharata. Besides Jayadhrata, there are other men who lust after her. Later in the epic, she has to fend off the unwarranted attention of Kichaka, brother-in-law of Virata, king of Matsya.

54 The story of Ram Tired of being troubled by the Kauravas and their relatives, the Pandavas decided to go deeper into the forest. They withdrew from the Kamyaka woods into the dense forests known as Dwaita-vana. They made their home in caves but decided not to stay in one place too long. As the days passed, there was nothing to do but talk. Bhima kept fretting and fuming. The idea of spending thirteen years doing nothing did not appeal to him. ‘I still think we must fight and claim what is rightfully ours.’ Draupadi moaned her fate and cursed her husbands. But all through, Yudhishtira kept his cool. He urged patience and serenity. ‘Are you not angry? Are you not humiliated? Are you not irritated? With the Kauravas, with fate, with God?’ asked Bhima. ‘No, why blame external factors when the root cause is our passion,’ said Yudhishtira. ‘Henceforth, let us not be swayed by passion. Let us be governed by what is right. Let us be governed by dharma.’ Despite his logic, Yudhishtira could sense the fury and frustration brewing inside his brothers and his wife. All this filled him with great shame and guilt. One day, feeling sorry for being the cause of his family’s downfall, he wailed, ‘Surely there has never been a man who has suffered as much as me.’

Rishi Markandeya, who heard Yudhishtira say this, responded, ‘No. That is not true. There was one called Ram, who suffered much more. You are exiled for thirteen years, he was exiled for fourteen. While you brought this misery upon yourself, he suffered because dharma states a good son must obey his father.’ Glancing towards Draupadi and Bhima, he said, ‘And while your brothers endure this exile because they have little choice, Ram’s brother, Lakshman, suffered voluntarily out of love and affection for him.’ Rishi Markandeya then proceeded to tell Yudhishtira the Ramopakhyan, the story of Ram, prince of Ayodhya. Dasharatha, king of Ayodhya, had three wives and four sons. Ram was the eldest. On the eve of Ram’s coronation, Dasharatha’s second queen, Kaikeyi, reminded Dasharatha of a boon he had offered her long time ago, when she had saved his life in battle. ‘Let Ram live as a hermit in the forest for fourteen years and let my son, Bharata, be made king of Ayodhya instead.’ Since he had given his word, Dasharatha had no choice but to ask Ram to leave Ayodhya and give the crown to Bharata. Ram, the dutiful son, obeyed without protest; he shed his royal robes and left for the forest dressed in clothes of bark, armed with his bow. His wife, Sita, and his younger brother, Lakshman, followed him because they were committed to sharing his burden of misfortunes. In Ayodhya, meanwhile, Bharata refused to be king of a kingdom obtained through deceit. He served as regent and waited for Ram to return and reclaim his kingdom. In the forest, Ram suffered great hardships along with his wife and his brother for thirteen long years. They travelled through untamed land battling demons, taking shelter in caves, occasionally meeting sages and hearing tales of encouragement and wisdom. In the final year of exile, a Rakshasa woman called Surpanakha was so smitten by the beauty of Ram and Lakshman that she solicited them repeatedly. When they refused to respond, she assumed it was because they had the company of Sita. So she tried to kill Sita. Ram and Lakshman stopped her in time. To teach

her a lesson she would never forget, Lakshman then cut off her nose and breasts and drove her away. A mutilated Surpanakha ran to her brother, Ravana, king of the Rakshasas, and demanded that he avenge her humiliation. Accordingly, Ravana abducted Sita while the two brothers were away hunting a golden deer. He took her to his island-kingdom of Lanka intending to make her queen by force. A heartbroken Ram raised an army in the forest comprising monkeys, bears and vultures. He built a bridge across the sea and launched an attack on Lanka. After a war that lasted for days, Ram was finally able to kill Ravana and liberate Sita. Ram then returned to Ayodhya along with Lakshman where he was crowned king by Bharata; Sita sat by his side as queen. Ram’s story is part of the Mahabharata but the poet Valmiki made it an epic in its own right. Known as the Ramayana, the story of Ram speaks of a model king and his model reign. The Mahabharata, by contrast, is more about imperfect kings and their imperfect reigns. In the Ramayana, Vishnu upholds rules as Ram, while in the Mahabharata, Vishnu changes rules as Krishna. In the Ramayana, God is king, while in the Mahabharata, God is kingmaker. Through the story of Ram, Vyasa is trying to explain that while we believe our problems are the greatest and our misfortunes the worst, there is always someone out there who has suffered

more. And just as they survived and triumphed over their suffering, we must too. Together, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata are known as Itihasa; they need to be distinguished from the Veda and the Purana. Itihasa is about the struggle of man to uphold dharma in his pursuit of perfection and divinity. The Veda, by contrast, lists rather abstractly the principles governing life while the Puranas embody these principles in various divine beings and tell stories of how God cyclically creates and destroys the world.

55 Shiva humbles Arjuna Arjuna knew in his heart that there would be a fight thirteen years later. Just as Ram had fought Ravana, the Pandavas would have to fight the Kauravas. He felt there was more merit in preparing for that fight than spending time in the forest cursing fate like Draupadi or being angry like Bhima. ‘Let me invoke Shiva, the God of destruction, and obtain weapons such as the Pashupat, which contains the strength of all birds and beasts, which I can use against the Kauravas,’ he said. He took leave of his brothers and travelled north towards the snow-clad mountains whose peaks reached up to the sky. At the base of the mountains was a dense forest of tall pine trees. In a clearing of the forest, Arjuna fixed into the soft earth a smooth oval stone collected from a river bed. ‘I shall look upon this formless stone as a linga, the symbol of Shiva, God without form,’ he said. He offered it flowers and then sat before it withholding his senses and his breath, his mind focused on Shiva. Days passed. Those who saw the still and immobile Arjuna were impressed by his concentration. Suddenly, a wild boar rushed towards Arjuna and interrupted his meditation. Arjuna opened his eyes, picked up his bow, shot one arrow that hit the boar and killed him instantly.

As Arjuna approached the boar, he noticed that he had been hit by another arrow. He looked up and found a Kirat or hunter standing next to the dead animal. Beside him was his beautiful wife. ‘My husband killed the boar,’ she said, beaming with pride. ‘No, I killed the boar,’ said Arjuna. ‘No, my husband did,’ insisted the hunter’s wife. ‘My wife is right. It was my arrow that killed the boar. You shot a dead boar,’ said the hunter. ‘Do you know who you are talking to?’ asked Arjuna, unused to being dismissed in this fashion. ‘A boy who always wants to win,’ said the hunter, making a face to mock Arjuna. An incensed Arjuna said, ‘I am Arjuna, student of Drona, and the greatest archer in the world.’ The hunter smiled, ‘Greatest? By whose measuring scale?’ His wife said, ‘This is the forest. Your city rules don’t apply here, boy. You may be a prince somewhere else. But here you are a common dog who must make way for the lion.’

Arjuna was furious. He would not allow this uncouth tribal couple to humiliate him so. ‘Let us fight then. He who wins is surely the better warrior and the true hunter of the boar,’ he said. The hunter accepted the challenge with a mocking look in his eyes, further annoying Arjuna. Arjuna picked up his bow and shot arrows at the hunter. The hunter responded calmly by shooting arrows that struck Arjuna’s arrows midair. Arjuna grudgingly had to accept that the hunter was indeed a skilled archer. When his quiver got empty, he picked up a sword and started fighting with the hunter. When the sword broke, a hand-to-hand combat followed. Arjuna found that the hunter was not only skilled but also very strong; he overpowered Arjuna effortlessly. Angry, desperate, stripped of all confidence, Arjuna went back to the linga of Shiva and offered it flowers. When he opened his eyes, he found the hunter sitting in front of him, smiling tenderly, covered with the same flowers that he had just offered the linga. It dawned on Arjuna that the hunter was none other than God himself. ‘I wanted to see how determined you are for the weapons. You don’t give up, do you?’ said Shiva, his voice booming across the forest. Arjuna realized the hunter’s wife was the goddess Shakti. The boar with the two arrows was actually their sacred bull, Nandi, pretending to be dead. Arjuna prostrated himself before God. ‘Here,’ said Shiva, ‘take the Pashupat. Use it wisely.’ Arjuna then had a vision of Shiva’s true form. His hair was matted and his body smeared with ash. He had wrapped himself in the hide of a lion and a tiger and he held in his hand a trident, a rattle-drum and a skull as a begging bowl. Round his neck was a string of Rudraksha beads and a hooded serpent. He sat on a great white bull with his wife beside him. She was dressed in the sixteen love-charms of marriage—a red sari, flowers in her hair, betel leaf in her mouth, bangles, armlets, anklets, bracelets, toe rings, rings on her nose and ears, necklaces and bejewelled belts around her waist. The divine couple, embodiments of the soul and the flesh, raised their hands and blessed Arjuna.

Arjuna performs a puja, a ritual quite different from the yagna, the primary ritual prescribed in Vedic scriptures. Puja involves adoration of a deity represented by an image with offerings of flower, food, perfumes and water. Pu means flowers in Tamil—an ancient language with roots different from those of the Vedic Sanskrit, suggesting that puja was a ritual of non-Vedic tribes, a people who were probably less nomadic and more rooted to the earth. The notion of the measuring scale is critical in Hindu thought. The value of an object depends on the scale being followed. And since all scales are man-made, all values are artificial. Thus all opinions ultimately are delusions, based on man-made measuring scales. According to one scale followed by Arjuna, a prince is superior to a forest dweller. According to another, followed by the Kirat, he who wins in a duel is superior. The world that is perceived through any measuring scale is called maya. Arjuna’s tryst with Shiva is not just about obtaining the Pashupat; it is also about learning a lesson in humility. Arjuna cannot bear the thought of being trounced by a forest dweller, who he considers socially inferior. Vyasa portrays Arjuna as an arrogant prince with a fierce competitive spirit. While competition is a powerful tool to excel, Vyasa warns us not to make it an exercise to dominate others. Domination through display of prowess is the way of the beast, not the way of the civilized man. In Garhwal region is found the Pandava Leela that retells the legend of Kalia Lohar, the blacksmith who helped forge weapons for the Pandavas in exile. Some say that the blacksmith was a form of Shiva, hence is worshipped locally as a deity.

56 Arjuna in Amravati Arjuna then climbed the snow-clad mountains known as the Himalayas. On the way, he saw the sky was overcast with dark clouds. Then he saw a flash of thunderbolts. It was his father, Indra, god of the sky, making his presence felt. Arjuna saw a chariot descend from the skies. It was Indra’s chariot. The charioteer, Matali, invited Arjuna to come to Swarga and join his father. ‘Why does my father call me?’ ‘He needs your help. He is troubled by Asuras and feels you can defeat them more easily than any Deva, with your knowledge of Pashupat.’ Arjuna beamed at this recognition of his skills. ‘I shall surely help my father. I shall raise my bow and defeat the Asuras who trouble him.’ Arjuna fought alongside the Devas and defeated many Asuras including the ones known as Kalakeyas and Nivatakavachas. Indra hugged his son and welcomed him to Swarga. ‘Enjoy the pleasures of paradise, my son. All that you wish will be yours.’

Arjuna indulged in the joys of paradise, sorely missing his brothers and his wife. He took special interest in learning dancing from the Gandharvas. As his warrior body moved to the tunes of the flute, the Apsaras realized how beautiful his human body, covered with sweat, was. One day, the Apsara known as Urvashi approached Arjuna dressed in her finest garments, and said, ‘I want you to be my lover.’ ‘How is that possible?’ said Arjuna, ‘You were wife of my ancestor, Pururava. You are therefore like a mother to me.’ ‘Rules of mortals do not apply to immortals.’

‘But they apply to me. I cannot touch you. Or even think of you in the way you want me to.’ ‘You reject me, you mortal! You reject me?’ said Urvashi furiously. ‘You are nothing but a eunuch. May you lose your manhood instantly.’ ‘But…’ Urvashi walked away in a huff. Arjuna ran to his father hoping he could get rid of the curse but Indra could only modify it, ‘You will have to lose your manhood but only for a year. You choose which year it shall be.’ ‘I am so unfortunate,’ moaned Arjuna. ‘Turn this curse into an opportunity,’ said the king of the Devas. ‘Use it in the thirteenth year of your exile when you are expected to live in hiding.’ The Devas ride on vimanas or flying chariots. This has led to speculation that Mahabharata refers to flying saucers. There are many who believe that in Vedic times, people had the knowledge of aerodynamics and had actually built planes. Rationalists, however, consider reference to flying chariots of the gods as poetic flights of fancy. Urvashi’s values are different from Arjuna’s. She is nature; in nature, desire is not contained by morality and ethics. He is, however, a creature of human society where desire is contained by morality and ethics. Unlike Shantanu and Yayati before him who could not contain their desire, this episode shows Arjuna triumphing over his desires. The exile has made him a stronger man. The lifespan of an Apsara and a Deva is different from the lifespan of a Manava. Their values are different too. What is mere passion and pleasure for Urvashi is incest for Arjuna. Vyasa thus shows how confrontation and conflict does not necessarily happen when one is right and the other is wrong; it can happen simply because two people follow different value systems. The Mahabharata identifies the Himalayas as the stairway to the paradise of the gods because their peaks touch the sky.

57 A journey full of tales While Arjuna was enjoying the comforts of Amravati, he was worried about his wife and brothers. So Indra sent the Rishi Lomasha to earth to inquire about their well-being and to direct them to the hermitage of Nara and Narayana atop the snow-clad peaks of the Himalayan range. ‘Tell them that Arjuna will meet them there after he has spent time with his father,’ said Indra. When Lomasha met the Pandavas, he found they sorely missed Arjuna and were eager to hear of his well-being. ‘He enjoys the company of his father. Indra advises you to spend your days in exile travelling, visiting places on river banks, atop hills, in caves, scattered across the rose-apple continent of Jambudvipa. Spend time with sages, hear stories, learn new skills and gain wisdom. Twelve years is less than a blink of Indra’s eyes; it shall pass quickly. When you return, you will be better rulers of the earth.’

And so began the great pilgrimage of the Pandavas. Accompanied by many sages including Dhaumya, Narada, Parvata and Lomasha, they went south, then east, then west. They bathed in the confluence of holy rivers and dipped in lakes guarded by ancient deities. They meditated in caves and saw the sun rise from sacred mountain tops. The journey gave them a fresh perspective on life. During this journey, they also met many great Rishis such as Vrihadashwa and Arshitsena who told them many stories and discussed many philosophies. All this greatly enriched Yudhishtira. He did not have material wealth but certainly he had no dearth of spiritual wealth. The Rishis told Yudhishtira the importance of balancing spiritual pursuits with material needs. They equated extreme monasticism with sterility. ‘Once, there was a sage called Vibhandaka who refused to teach his son, Rishyashringa, anything about women. As a result, the region where Rishyashringa dwelt suffered from a long spell of drought. The drought ended and rains came only when Shanta, daughter of the local king, Lompada, succeeded in seducing Rishyashringa and teaching him the pleasures of the flesh.’ They told him the value of marriage. ‘Rishi Agastya was tormented by his ancestors who appeared in his dreams. They hung upside down over a bottomless pit and moaned that they would never be able to escape their miserable fate unless they were reborn. And the only way they could be reborn was if their descendant married and produced children. In deference to the

wishes of his ancestors, Agastya married Lopamudra, a princess, and had children by her. Thus did he repay his debt to his ancestors and facilitated their rebirth.’ They told him the value of sons. ‘Once, a man called Kahoda was incensed when his understanding of the Veda was corrected by his own unborn son. He cursed the child that he would suffer from eight physical defects at birth. Later, this very same son, born with eight defects, hence called Ashtavakra, defeated a scholar called Bandi in an intellectual debate. Bandi had earlier humiliated Kahoda in a gathering of Rishis. Thus the son, though cursed by the father, ended up avenging his father’s insult.’ They told him the importance of keeping one’s word. ‘King Sala borrowed the swift Vami horses belonging to Vamadeva for a month, but then refused to return them incurring the wrath of Vamadeva who by his austerities had the king killed by invoking demons. Sala’s brother, Dala, also refused to part with the horses; he raised an arrow at Vamadeva but the arrow ended up striking his own son. Dala’s queen then begged Vamadeva to forgive her husband and forced Dala to return the horses that rightfully belonged to the sage.’ They told the king tales that showed the importance of worldly responsibilities. ‘Kaushika abandoned his old parents to become a hermit, undergo spiritual practices and accumulate magical powers. But while these powers enabled him to kill a bird with the mere glance of his eyes, it did not give him any peace of mind. From a housewife and then from a butcher, he learnt that peace of mind

does not come from renouncing worldly life; it comes from knowledge of the soul and a true understanding of the world as it is. With this knowledge in one’s heart, one can carry on doing one’s worldly duties. One must accept that one’s life is the result of past karmas and that one has the power to choose one’s response to every situation. Realizing that the truth resides not in the forest but in one’s heart, Kaushika returned home and took care of his old parents. More than magical powers, it was a true insight into the workings of the world that gave Kaushika peace of mind.’ They told him tales of greed. ‘King Somaka was punished by the gods for killing his only son, Jantu, with the intention of having a hundred more sons like him.’ They also told him tales of forgiveness. ‘A Rishi called Raibhya found his daughter-in-law in the arms of a youth called Yavakri. Enraged, he killed Yavakri. Yavakri’s father, Bharadvaj, cursed Raibhya that he would die at the hands of Paravasu, the son whose wife, he claimed, had seduced Yavakri. The curse realized itself a few days later. Paravasu killed Raibhya mistaking him for a wild animal. To save himself, Paravasu accused his younger brother, Aravasu, of the crime. Aravasu protested his innocence but nobody believed him. In disgust and anger, Aravasu went to the forest and performed terrible austerities intent on gaining occult powers with which he could teach his elder brother a lesson and clear his soiled reputation. As the days passed, Aravasu’s mind was illuminated by the spiritual fire known as tapa. In its light and warmth he was filled with wisdom. Wisdom took away all desire for vengeance and filled him with peace. Instead of punishing his brother, he realized there was greater joy in forgiving him.’

They also told Yudhishtira tales of leaving behind a legacy through generosity. ‘After spending centuries in the paradise of Indra, Indradyumna was cast out and told to return only if people on earth still remembered his meritorious deeds. Indradyumna first went to Markandeya, the sage who had lived longer than most humans. Markandeya, however, did not remember him and took him to meet an owl who had lived longer than him. The owl did not remember him either. He directed Indradyumna to a stork. Unfortunately, even the stork did not remember Indradyumna. The stork directed the old king to Akupara, a turtle. The turtle who lived longer than most animals remembered Indradyumna as the king who had built the lake in which he lived. But Indradyumna did not remember ever building a lake. The turtle explained that Indradyumna did not plan to build a lake, but it happened as a result of his generosity. The king gave away so many cows that the cows he gave away kicked up enough dust while leaving their sheds to create a depression that turned into a lake following the rains. That lake later became home to many fishes and turtles and serpents and birds. Thus Indradyumna could never be forgotten—there were many on earth that benefited either directly or indirectly from his good deeds. This knowledge enabled Indradyumna to rise to Swarga and take residence beside the gods once again.’ The Rishis also told Yudhishtira of his great ancestor Kuru, after whom the land around Hastina-puri came to be known as Kuru-kshetra. ‘Kuru kept tilling the earth using his flesh as seed and blood as water until an exasperated Indra asked him what he sought. Kuru wanted nothing for himself. His only wish was that those who die on the land tilled by him would ascend to paradise instantly. Indra agreed but on one condition. It was not enough to die in Kuru-kshetra; the manner of death mattered too: either death by renunciation or death in war.’

In the twelve-year exile the Pandavas and their wife were never alone. They were constantly accompanied by their family priest Dhaumya and many Rishis who took them to holy spots and told them sacred stories. Both travelling to holy spots and listening to sacred stories are believed to reduce the burden of karmic debts and increase the load of karmic equity. The unlucky Pandavas thus use their long period of exile to clean up their fate. Pilgrimage is an important part of Hindu spiritual practice. The Mahabharata uses every occasion to list the sacred spots of India and the stories connected with each one. These narrations fired the imagination of settled communities, inspiring them Exile to go on a pilgrimage sometime in life. Travel, realized the wise men, was an important way to widen the outlook of otherwise inward-looking communities. In Hindu tradition, telling and listening to stories are critical as they are vehicles of profound truths; they shape a person’s understanding of the world.

58 Tryst with Rakshasas Eleven years passed. After visiting holy spots associated with various gods and goddesses, the Pandavas finally decided to move north, in the direction of the Pole Star towards the snow-clad Himalayas. Rishi Lomasha had informed them that Arjuna would meet them there after descending from Amravati. Among the many Rishis who accompanied the Pandavas on their journey to the Himalayas, there was one who was no Rishi but a Rakshasa in disguise. His name was Jata. One day, while the entire group was resting and Bhima was away hunting and the Rishis were busy collecting flowers, Jata revealed his true form. Turning into a giant, he caught hold of Yudhishtira, Nakula, Sahadeva and Draupadi in his two hands and began running into the woods. He wanted to eat the three Pandavas and ravish their wife. ‘Help, help,’ cried Sahadeva, alerting Bhima, who immediately turned around and ran in the direction of the sound. Yudhishtira meanwhile told Jata, ‘You fool. This action of yours will earn you no merit. What hope you have of being reborn as a human or even a god is lost because of the demerit earned by killing us and ravishing our wife. You are

making matters worse for yourself. You, who have hope of becoming a higher being, may turn into an animal, or vegetable, or worse, a stone, in your next life.’ Yudhishtira’s words set Jata thinking. As he thought, he slowed down. He started walking rather than running. Bhima was able to catch up with him and strike him down with a mace. Yudhishtira, Nakula, Sahadeva and Draupadi escaped and Bhima punched him on his face repeatedly till he was dead. After their encounter with Jata, the Pandavas continued on their journey north. While the sight of the slopes and the view from the many peaks of the Himalayas was breathtaking, the climb was steep and dangerous. Sometimes, the wind blew violently and pushed the Pandavas back. Sometimes, the chill caused their joints to freeze forcing them to stop and rest in a cave. Yudhishtira soon found himself breathless and Draupadi fainted, unable to bear the strain. Nakula and Sahadeva rushed to her side, rubbed her limbs and comforted her with soothing words. They had to continue climbing. On top, they would finally be reunited with Arjuna. The days spent by the Pandavas in the Himalayas had a profound impact on the local people. Rivers, passes, mountain peaks and caves are associated with various events and characters mentioned in the epic. Even today, the Pandava Leela recounting the heroic deeds of the Pandavas is an integral part of the culture of the Garhwal region. Every time the Pandavas enter the forest, they have violent encounters with many Rakshasa warriors such as Hidimba, Baka, Kirmira and Jata. These were perhaps hostile non-Vedic tribes, some of whom like Ghatotkacha who finally did befriend the Pandavas. The Newar community of Nepal worships Bhima as Bhairava, the violent form of Shiva, and

offers him blood sacrifices.

59 Return of Arjuna Realizing that the climb would only get tougher, Bhima decided to summon his son, Ghatotkacha, born of his Rakshasa wife, Hidimbi. He remembered the last words he had heard his son speak, ‘Should you ever need my help, father, just think of me and I shall come.’ Sure enough, as soon as Bhima thought of Ghatotkacha, the Rakshasa youth, who possessed both telepathic powers as well as the power of flight, arrived instantly. He came with many other Rakshasas. They carried all the Pandavas and their wife on their shoulders and helped them reach the highest peaks of the mountains. The Pandavas reached Alakapuri, the city of the Yakshas, where they were entertained by Kubera, king of the Yakshas. Both Yakshas and Rakshasas had a

common ancestor, Pulastya’s son, Vaishrava. While the Yakshas lived in the north atop mountains, the Rakshasas lived south in forests. Yakshas were guardians of treasures and were extremely fond of riddles. Kubera had a mongoose that spat jewels every time he opened his mouth. The Pandavas also visited Badari, the cave where Nara and Narayana once meditated. The sages Lomasha and Dhaumya who accompanied the Pandavas said that Nara and Narayana were destined to walk the earth once more. It was whispered that they had taken birth as Arjuna and Krishna. Shortly thereafter, Arjuna descended from Amravati on a glittering flying chariot. Draupadi rushed to greet him. The Rishis welcomed him with garlands. His brothers requested him to show the divine weapons he had acquired from the gods. No sooner did he unwrap the weapons than the earth began to tremble, the wind stilled and the sun paled. All creatures from all the four quarters cried out, ‘Beware, beware. These are powerful weapons. They can destroy all life. Do not treat them with such disrespect.’ Arjuna immediately withdrew these weapons and wrapped them in celestial cloth, so that no mortal eyes could lay eyes on them. The Himalayan region is full of folktales associated with the Pandavas. Once, they saw a herd of cattle grazing and recognized among them Shiva who had taken the form of the most

ferocious bull. Bhima tried to catch the bull but it disappeared; the hump remained above the ground and was worshipped as Kedarnath. Another time, Arjuna was defeated by a warrior who unknown to him was his own son Nagarjuna, born of a local Naga princess. This tale is similar to that of Babruvahan found later in the Sanskrit telling. Another tale refers to the hunt of a rhinoceros by Arjuna who wanted to present it as an offering to his dead father. In Bhasa’s play, Madyamavyayogam, dated 100 CE, Bhima rescues a Brahman boy from being devoured by a Rakshasa who turns out to be Ghatotkacha. In the Ramayana, Rakshasas are projected as a sophisticated race, related to the Yakshas. They live in golden cities and possess flying chariots. In the Mahabharata, they are projected as barbaric brutes lacking in sophistication.

60 Daughters of Balarama and Duryodhana It was time for Ghatotkacha to leave. Before parting, Ghatotkacha decided to tell his father’s family all that was happening in Dwaraka and in Hastina-puri, between the Yadavas and the Kauravas. Ghatotkacha said, ‘The children of Draupadi have grown up to be fine young men. And Subhadra’s son, Abhimanyu, has become a warrior of repute. They all live happily in the company of Krishna’s children. Balarama’s daughter, Vatsala, fell in love with Abhimanyu. Unfortunately for her, Balarama had fixed her marriage with Duryodhana’s son, Lakshman. As the wedding day approached, an unhappy Vatsala sought Krishna’s advice and Krishna sent for me. He ordered me to carry Vatsala on my shoulders and fly to the hills outside Dwaraka where Abhimanyu could marry her according to the rites of the Gandharvas, with the trees as witness. He then told me to take the form of Vatsala and pretend to be the bride. During the wedding, I squeezed Lakshman’s hand with such force that he fainted. With my identity revealed, there was chaos in Dwaraka. The Kauravas accused the Yadavas of duping them.’

‘Duryodhana would have been furious,’ said Bhima, unable to hold back his smile, ‘He wanted to marry Balarama’s sister, Subhadra, but she married Arjuna instead. He wanted his son to marry Balarama’s daughter, Vatsala, but she married Arjuna’s son instead.’ ‘Duryodhana did not take this insult kindly,’ said Ghatotkacha. ‘To teach the Yadavas a lesson, he declared that his daughter, Lakshmani, would not marry Krishna’s son, Samba, as planned. Samba, not one to take this lying down, secretly slipped into Hastina-puri and tried to abduct Lakshmani, determined to marry her. But he was caught in the act and put in a dungeon. When Balarama learnt of this, he went to Hastina-puri alone and demanded Samba be released and allowed to return to Dwaraka along with the woman he loved. Duryodhana not only refused, he started insulting the Yadavas who never kept their word. He mocked their ancestor Yadu, whose descendants could never be kings because he did not suffer for his father. Duryodhana’s tirade so incensed Balarama that, in rage, he became a giant, his head reaching the sky. He swung his plough and hooked it on the foundations of Hastina-puri and started dragging the great city of the Kurus towards the sea. Duryodhana realized that Balarama was no ordinary Manava. He had known Balarama long as an expert in mace warfare, as a teacher and as a friend. Unlike Krishna who always favoured the Pandavas, Balarama had always treated him with extra affection. Now he had angered Balarama and had seen a side that he had never before imagined. He fell at Balarama’s feet and begged forgiveness. As you know, Balarama is quick to

anger but also easily pacified. He forgave the Kauravas and returned to Dwaraka with Krishna’s son and his new wife.’ The Pandavas imagined Balarama’s giant form. Who was he, truly, they wondered. And the Rishis revealed, ‘He is Sesha, the remainder. He who exists even when God is asleep and the world is dissolved. He is Adi, that which exists before the beginning, and Ananta, after the end. He is the great serpent in whose coils reclines God in the form of Vishnu.’ All these tales once again reinforced what the Pandavas always suspected; Balarama and his younger brother, Krishna, were not quite what they appeared to be. Duryodhana was Balarama’s favourite. He wanted his sister to marry Duryodhana and his daughter to marry Duryodhana’s son. Both attempts were foiled by Krishna who got the women married to Arjuna and Arjuna’s son. It has been speculated that Balarama is a form of Shiva, the ascetic, guileless in nature, hence blinded in love and unable to see the flaws of the Kauravas. The story of Balarama’s daughter, known variously as Vatsala and Shasirekha, is part of many folk literatures. Illustrations of this tale in the Chitrakathi style have been found in 19th century manuscripts in Maharashtra. The story of the marriage of Krishna’s son and Duryodhana’s daughter comes from the Bhagavata Purana. The tales of the two marriages, one of a Yadava woman, Vatsala, and one of a Kaurava woman, Lakshmani, can be seen politically. As the family of Abhimanyu’s wife, the Yadavas

are forced to side with the Pandavas and as the family of Samba’s wife, the Kauravas are forced to side with the Yadavas. Thus the marriages turn enemies into members of the same extended family, making it difficult to take sides. At a philosophical level, one can see the conflict between arranged marriages governed by the intellect and love marriages governed by emotions. What is appropriate conduct? Krishna clearly favours the heart over the head in matters of marriage. Or does he? For the marriages do impact political alliances, something that Krishna is well aware of.

61 Hanuman humbles Bhima One day, the wind carried with it a golden lotus with a thousand petals and a heavenly fragrance. ‘Can I have more of these?’ said Draupadi, her voice full of excitement. It had been a long time since Bhima had seen his wife so happy. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, and set out in the direction from which the wind had carried the flower. Bhima walked straight, taking no turns, his strides long, forceful, impatient and full of determination. He smashed all that came in his way. Boulders, mountains, trees. Birds and beasts fled as they saw him approach. He was a man on a mission, determined to get his wife, who had suffered so much, those flowers that brought her so much joy. Finally, Bhima entered a thick plantain grove, so thick that sunlight did not reach the floor. He found there an old, frail monkey lying on the floor blocking his path. ‘Move aside,’ growled Bhima impatiently. ‘I am too old to move,’ said the monkey in a feeble voice. ‘Push my tail aside and be on your way.’ ‘If you say so,’ said Bhima and proceeded to sweep the old monkey’s tail aside. To his surprise, the tail was heavy and immoveable. Despite all his strength, he

could not kick it away. Bhima put down his mace and tried to pull it up with both his hands. He grunted as he used all his might but the tail remained where it was. Bhima stood up and looked at the old monkey curiously. This was no ordinary monkey. It was too strong. Suddenly, it dawned on Bhima that this monkey was none other than Hanuman, the commander of the monkey forces that helped Ram rescue Sita from the clutches of Ravana. It was said that Hanuman was destined never to die. Like him, Hanuman was the son of Vayu, the wind-god. That made Hanuman his brother. ‘Yes, I am he who you think I am. Your brother,’ said the old monkey sitting up, his eyes full of wisdom and compassion. Bhima realized that through Hanuman, Krishna was teaching him a lesson in humility. Thus enlightened, he bowed to Hanuman and proceeded on his journey, this time his steps a little less haughty. Finally, Bhima reached the lake where he found hundreds of fragrant golden lotuses. As he began plucking them for Draupadi, he was attacked by the Gandharvas who guarded the lake. Bhima swatted them aside as if they were mosquitoes and continued collecting the flowers. He then returned to where his brothers were with a huge bunch of flowers that Draupadi was delighted to receive.

Just as Shiva teaches Arjuna, Hanuman teaches Bhima a lesson in humility. The forest transforms the Pandavas, makes them better kings. The tragedy of exile thus seems very much part of a divine plan to help men be better rulers. Once, Bhima pretended to have fever and requested Draupadi to massage his feet. He took large fruits and covered them with a bedsheet. Without removing the bedsheet, Draupadi massaged what she thought were the firm limbs of Bhima while her husbands watched from afar. When the truth was revealed, she was so angry that she cursed the fruits. In future, they would not be smooth; they would be covered with spikes. That is why the jackfruit skin is covered with spikes. The people of the Himalayas possessed different features from the people of the plains. That is why rationalists say they were described as demons and goblins, or Rakshasas and Yakshas, by the Aryas. The romance of Bhima and Draupadi is the stuff of many folk legends. In the horse dance of Tanjore, the riders of the dummy horses represent Bhima and Draupadi.

62 Draupadi admits a secret Memories of Draupadi’s humiliation plagued Bhima. He longed to make her happy but realized that he never could. She was always melancholy. Even physically, he who could satisfy a thousand women could never fully satisfy Draupadi. Why, he wondered? As the twelve years drew to a close, the Pandavas realized they were not what they were before the exile. Yudhishtira had cultivated the spirit of restraint. Both Arjuna and Bhima had learnt lessons in humility. But Draupadi, had she learnt anything? One day, while wandering through the woods, Draupadi came upon a rose-apple or Jambu tree on which she saw a low-hanging, fine-looking fruit which made her mouth water. No sooner did she pluck it than she heard the tree speak, ‘What have you done? This fruit has been hanging here for twelve years. On the other side of this tree sits a Rishi who has been performing tapasya for twelve long years. Later today, he will finally open his eyes and eat this fruit, his first meal in twelve years. But now you have contaminated the fruit with your touch. He will go hungry. And the demerit of making him go hungry will all be yours.’ A terrified Draupadi fetched her husbands and begged them to do something. ‘You are strong, Bhima. Can you fix the fruit to the tree?’ Bhima shook his head helplessly. ‘What about you Arjuna? Can your arrows fix it?’ Arjuna also said

no. There were many things strength and skill could do, but reattaching a plucked fruit was not one of them. The tree boomed, ‘If you were truly chaste, Draupadi, you could have done it with the power of your chastity.’ ‘But I am chaste. Although I have five husbands, I am always faithful to the one brother who is allowed to come to my bed for a year.’ ‘You lie, Draupadi. There is someone that you love more.’ ‘I love Krishna, but as a friend, not as a husband or a lover,’ said Draupadi, embarrassed by this public discussion of her most intimate thoughts. ‘There is someone else you love. Someone else. Tell the truth, Draupadi.’ Draupadi broke down. She did not want her secret to be the cause of a Rishi going hungry. She revealed the truth, ‘I love Karna. I regret not marrying him on account of his caste. If I had married him, I would not have been gambled away. I would not have been publicly humiliated. I would not have been called a whore.’ The revelations came as a shock to the Pandavas. They were not sure whether to be angry with Draupadi or be ashamed of themselves. They realized they had failed her individually and collectively.

Having revealed the truth of her heart, Draupadi had been cleansed. She was now able to attach the Jambu fruit to the Jambu tree. That evening, the Rishi opened his eyes after twelve years of tapasya. He took a dip in a nearby river, ate the Jambu fruit and blessed the Pandavas and their chaste wife, Draupadi. Both Bhima and Arjuna found it difficult to accept that their wife cared for Karna. One night, they saw Yudhishtira touching Draupadi’s feet. They demanded an explanation. In response, Yudhishtira asked them not to sleep that night. At midnight, the three brothers saw a vermilion-red Banyan tree rise outside their cave. Under it were nine lakh deities who invoked the Goddess. In response, Draupadi presented herself before them. They made her sit on a golden throne and showered her with flowers. Bhima and Arjuna realized that their wife was no ordinary woman; she was a form of the Goddess herself. Not only had they failed to protect her, they had even dared to judge her character. The story of the Jambu fruit comes from a folk play from Maharashtra called Jambul-akhyan. It is said that the Jambu fruit stains the tongue purple to remind us of all the secrets that we keep from the world. Folk narratives, in contrast to classical Sanskrit narratives, tend to be cruder and raw. They celebrate the imperfections of the human condition. In many folk epics, such as the Bhil Mahabharata, Draupadi is identified with the Goddess. In the Tamil Mahabharata, Draupadi is worshipped as Virapanchali. In various adventures, she helps her husbands find sacred objects such as a bell, a drum and a box of turmeric that will empower them to avenge her humiliation. One night, the Pandavas watch her run naked in the forest, hunt elephants and buffaloes and quench her thirst with their blood. According to one South Indian folktale, in order to satisfy his wife sexually, Bhima requests Krishna to enter his body and give him more power. Draupadi realizes this immediately and